chapter 19

In Which Jackson Is Improved

In the flashiest of flashes, which actually felt longer, Jackson’s hair was brushed, washed, snipped, dyed, and dried. His fingers had been soaked and rubbed, and fingernails clipped, filed, and buffed. His face had been washed, masked, toned, massaged, and moisturized. He was exhausted.

Very, very slowly, Jackson opened one eye. The ten chickens had all lined up, watching him with smug expressions.

Miss Pottle clucked a little cluck and smiled a beaky smile.

“Well now! Whoooo can’t say you’re not loveable noooooow?” She bobbed her head and pulled Jackson over to the mirror.

Jackson looked into it.

And gasped.